


Better luck next time

by kat_fanfic



Series: Draco/? [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Break Up, Eavesdropping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-War, Pre-Relationship, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Ron being impulsive, Selfish Charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-07-27 09:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20043808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_fanfic/pseuds/kat_fanfic
Summary: At the first sign of tears, Ron almost turned away. It’d been a while since he’d been so close to heartbreak, and he’d very much not wanted to repeat the experience. And yet, it also fascinated him, the wealth of emotion Malfoy displayed in that moment, the depth of what he’d been feeling for his brother.Ron overhears Charlie breaking up with his lover of two years, who just happens to be Draco Malfoy.





	1. Chapter 1

Ron stumbled upon them by accident. 

He’d been roaming through the Burrow, looking for his new wristwatch. It was a muggle contraption his Dad had painstakingly restored and charmed to warn of traces of dark magic in his vicinity. It was ugly and bulky and not at all Ron’s usual style, but his Dad had looked so proud when he’d given it to him for his birthday that he hadn’t had the heart to decline it. 

Problem was, the damned thing had a mind of its own, always slipping off his wrist and hiding in the most difficult of places. This time, he’d spied a glimmer of its reflecting surface just off the fireplace in the small, cramped room his family jokingly called The Library. 

Which is why he was now watching, hidden behind the not-quite-closed door, what he was pretty sure would lead to his brother breaking up with Draco Malfoy.

“I’m not giving up my dragons.” It was said in Charlie’s typical no-nonsense way, but it came across harsher than his brother intended, Ron was sure. 

“I-,” Malfoy was shaking his head, looking up at Charlie with such open misery that Ron felt his throat grow tight. This was Draco Malfoy all right, but at this moment, he was a far cry from the arrogant boy who’d made his life miserable in school. “I’m not asking you to. Merlin, I know how much they mean to you, how deep your bond is with them.”

Charlie sighed, some of the tension leaving his broad shoulders. “Then what the fuck, Draco? We’ve been over this a thousand times, you know very well where I stand on the matter.”

“I know.” Malfoy scrubbed a hand over his face, a surprisingly rough gesture that spoke of his inner turmoil. “It’s just… I love you, Charlie, you know I do. But I can’t go back and forth like this, always having to choose between my life here and yours in Romania.”

“I thought you liked Romania.”

Ron almost snorted out loud. Charlie’s default was to assume that everyone loved Romania as much as he did.

Malfoy shook his head once, stepping closer to the other man. “That’s not the point, Charlie. Romania’s fine, your cottage there is fine, it’s just…” He laid a hand on Charlies’ chest. His fingers looked delicate as they traced the rough leather of the vest the other man was wearing. “It’s not ours, you know? Nothing is. We’ve been together for two years and yet there’s barely a trace of me there.”

“So, you want, what?” Charlie asked, obviously very much at the end of his patience. “Some decorative pillows with your name stitched on? Maybe a Slytherin shrine, green and silver all the way? Merlin’s balls, Draco, come off it.”

Malfoy pulled back at the acidic tone. “Fuck you”, he hissed, some of his old fire breaking through the carefully constructed mask of maturity. “It’s not like I’m asking for much, you arrogant prick. You didn’t even put up a single picture of us, did you notice? Not one. It’s like I don’t even exist for you.”

Ron frowned. That wasn’t true, though, right? There had to be at least some pictures of Malfoy around at Charlie’s place? And yet, thinking back on his few visits there, he couldn’t recall seeing one – or any other item that was Malfoy’s, for that matter. Huh.

Charlie slowly shook his head, wearing a – to Ron – painfully familiar expression. There had been many a lover in Charlie’s life, but none had ever been able to compete with his brother’s dedication to his work. And yet, for a while there, Ron had found himself thinking that Draco Malfoy could be the one. 

“I don’t know what you expect me to do here, Draco.” Charlie sounded dreadfully matter-of-fact. “I’ve always been very clear about what I want out of this. I’m sorry if what I can give is not enough for you, but it’s not like I didn’t warn you.”

Knowing Charlie, that was very likely to be true. And knowing Malfoy, it had just as likely been blissfully ignored. After all, who could resist him, right? 

There had been a time where Ron had come close to strangling him for exactly that particular kind of cheerful arrogance, but right in this moment, he wanted nothing more than for it to make a reappearance. 

Instead, Malfoy seemed defeated, as if Charlie’s indifference was sucking all the strength out of him. His face was so pale it looked translucent. “I can’t do this anymore,” he breathed, voice pitched so low that Ron could hardly make it out. 

Charlie frowned. The sudden tension in his body made him seem even more imposing, and suddenly it looked like he was towering over Draco’s slight form. “Do what?”

“This.” Draco gestured between them, a small aborted wave. “This travesty of a relationship where I make compromises and you just – don’t.”

The sudden storm cloud darkening Charlie’s face was as familiar to Ron as it was frightening. 

“Don’t, Charlie”, he murmured under his breath, unable to help himself. “Don’t do it. Not like this.”

His plea went unheard. “Fine then,” Charlie snapped, baring his teeth in a mockery of a smile. “Let’s call it quits, yeah? I guess it has always been just a matter of time. I mean, it’s not like we were gonna get married or anything.”

Malfoy said nothing. His hands were trembling.

“Right.” Suddenly, Charlie’s wand was in his hand. “See you around, I suppose. I’d send your stuff via owl, but according to you, I don’t have anything of yours that matters.” 

It probably wasn’t meant to cut as deep as it did, but Ron could see the way Malfoy flinched.

There was a minute hesitation, making Ron think his brother had come to his senses, but then Charlie huffed and shook his head. “Goodbye, Draco,” he murmured and was gone, the sudden crack of his disapparation startlingly loud.

Ron’s heart pounded in his chest. He’d always known that his brother was flighty and stubborn, commitment phobic to a ridiculous degree, but he’d never known him to be intentionally cruel. What he’d just witnessed felt exactly like that, though, and it was hard to reconcile that with the gentle dork he’d grown up with.

And Draco Malfoy, who had always been the bane of Ron’s existence, whose hubris had never known any bounds, broke. 

At the first sign of tears, Ron almost turned away. It’d been a while since he’d been so close to heartbreak before, and he’d very much not wanted to repeat the experience. And yet, it also fascinated him, the wealth of emotion Malfoy displayed in that moment, the depth of what he’d been feeling for his brother. 

It seemed wrong somehow for him to be all alone. Images of a similarly pale Malfoy standing alone before the Wizengamot rose, unbidden, before his inner eye. Ron had been too deep in his grief then to be able to feel empathy for the boy who had played a vital part in his brother’s death, and yet it had left a mark on him to see the youngest Malfoy break with everything he had been taught to right the wrong he’d done.

Of course, having Malfoy be an in-law of sorts had helped their relationship along as well. 

“Well, that’s over now”, he muttered under his breath, and before he could think better of it, Ron stepped out of the long shadows cast by lumos-powered lamps. “Malfoy.”

Malfoy froze, then whirled away, hiding his tear-stained face from view. “What do you want?” he croaked, scrubbing a hand over his wet cheeks. 

“You alright?” Ron asked, trying for a neutral tone.

Malfoy huffed out a bitter laugh. “You heard then?” He shook his head. “Of course, you did. It’s not as if anything is ever a secret in this house.” The look he shot Ron was peevish rather than nasty and Ron asked himself when Malfoy had changed into this tamed-down version of himself. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

Funny, how just a few minutes ago, he’d have cheered to hear this. But thing was, he knew exactly what it felt like to be in Malfoy’s shoes in that very moment, and rival or not, there was no way he was going to let Malfoy just leave to wallow in his misery alone. “Mom will be disappointed.” 

Grimacing, Malfoy murmured a quick cleaning spell and the traces of tears on his face disappeared. “I’m sure she’ll understand, given the circumstances.” His face might have been clear now, but the eyes meeting Ron’s were as dull as they had been that first day back at Hogwarts, the year after the Great Battle.

Shite. 

Stepping forward, Ron grabbed the other man’s arm, halting him from lifting his wand again. “I really think you should stay. Don’t just slink off to that cold Manor of yours.” He quirked a smile at the other man. “After all, your best friend is here, isn’t he?” The fact of which was still a little awkward, even after all those years.

Malfoy shook his head, trying to escape Ron’s hold. “Let me go.” 

But Ron wasn’t about to do that. “Don’t run,” he murmured. “Just, let me get Harry, okay?” 

Malfoy was unsteady under his hands. His eyes were wet, but he was fighting the tears every step of the way. “I don’t want Harry. I want…” he trailed off, pressing his lips together.

“I know,” Ron murmured. Sympathy made Ron’s throat grow tight. He had vivid flashbacks to his own breakup with Hermione, remembering all too well how all he’d wanted was for the whole nightmare to be over and for everything to just go back to the way it was before. “But at least you’re among friends here, yeah?”

Malfoy lifted a shoulder, a sneer fighting to form on his face, and then someone called “Draco!”, and a moment later, Harry was there, looking all glowy and rosy-cheeked after an evening of family hijinks and great food. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you, Molly’s about to bring out dessert…” He looked between them, drawing his brows together. “Ron? What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Ron snorted. “Charlie is what happened, mate.” He shot Harry a meaningful glance. “Bastard just took off after calling it quits.”

“Right.” Harry shook his head, then pushed his glasses back onto his nose, a nervous habit he’d never quite been able to shake. “See, I told you this would happen. Didn’t I tell him this would happen, Ron?”

Ron nodded, because Harry indeed had warned Malfoy on numerous occasions about getting involved with his brother.

But Harry was on a roll. “I could just kick his teeth in,” he seethed. “This is just so typical for him. You know I love Charlie to death, but he can be a right prick sometimes, and he has no fucking perspective when it comes to those blasted dragons of his-” 

“Harry, don’t.” The words stopped him short, soft as they were. Draco wasn’t quite looking at either of them. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret later. He’s still your brother.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t see his faults.”

Ron had to agree. If having a big family had taught him anything, it was to take everyone as they were and to love them despite – or even because of – their imperfections. “Harry’s right,” he said. “Charlie’ll always be my big brother, but Merlin’s beard, he drives me up the wall sometimes with his selfishness.”

Malfoy’s mouth quirked. “He’s a character,” he said, sounding affectionate and so very unhappy that Ron wanted to clear his throat. “I would have lived with it all, you know,” Malfoy added, à propos of nothing. “I’d have gotten used to the damp, and to the dragon scales littering every available surface and to orange hair clogging up my drain…” He trailed off, the implications of what he’d just revealed hovering in the air between them. 

Ron exchanged a quick glance with Harry, both of their eyes wide in surprise. This wasn’t how Draco Malfoy was usually like in the aftermath of a relationship gone sour. This Ron knew, because somehow, he’d ended up with a best friend who’d made an Ex-Death Eater, Slytherin snake his _other_ best friend, and then his own brother had started to _sleep_ with said snake, and somehow, Ron had seen far more of Malfoy over the years than he’d ever wanted to. 

So yeah, this wasn’t Malfoy’s typical ‘oh well, try again next time’ reaction to being dumped and it looked like even Harry was just beginning to realize that. 

Harry cleared his throat. “Draco?” he asked gently, coaxing. “What are you trying to say?”

Malfoy rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and gave a slight half-shrug. “Nothing, just… I’ve sort of been looking at rings?” He sniffed. “I guess I should have known better…” 

“Ah, crap.” Harry looked like he was about to cry himself. “Come here, love,” he murmured, not giving Malfoy the chance to pull away. He just opened his arms and gathered him in, wrapping himself around him as if he could personally soak up the pain, and Malfoy – foul-tempered, cynic Malfoy – sort of crumpled into Harry, making a low sound that Ron felt in his bones. 

For a brief, crazy moment, he felt like reaching out, too. Instead, he opted for a tactical retreat, abruptly deciding that he could get his wristwatch later. “Harry,” he murmured, shifting on his feet. “I’ll go down, let the others know what’s going on. D’you need anything?” 

“Nah, we’ll be fine,” Harry murmured against white-blonde hair, shooting Ron a grateful look. “Thanks, mate.”

He nodded and turned to go. He’d think of something to tell his Mom, preferably something that wouldn’t send her into a cake-baking frenzy – a break-up in the family tended to have that effect on her – and then he’d get himself a well-deserved late-night snack.

Throwing a quick glance back, he couldn’t help but be amazed at the change the relatively short time since the war had brought. At a certain point in time he’d have scoffed at the very thought of Harry Potter comforting Draco Malfoy after a breakup, and yet it was par of the course for them now. 

Those first few weeks back at Hogwarts had been hard on all of them, but it had taken several years for Ron to realize that maybe Draco had struggled more than he’d been willing to see.

Not quite rehabilitated but not found guilty either, the Malfoy heir had lived a sort of half-life that consisted mostly of studying and the occasional Quidditch match. His social life was practically non-existent, and even though he wasn’t quite considered a pariah, it sure came close. 

It probably would have continued on in that way, had not a certain Savior of the Wizarding World stumbled upon Draco trying to teach a First Year Slytherin how to _Reparo_ his broken quill. Apparently, Draco had become quite good at mending spells, for reasons that became painfully apparent the moment they started closer attention. 

He had struggled to pass the skill along, though, and the two pieces of the quill kept turning neon-green instead of fusing together under the First Year’s inexperienced wand-waving. “I’m muggleborn”, the boy had finally murmured, eyes downcast. 

And Draco, despite expectations, had just nodded and repeated the correct movement. “It must be hard, never even having seen a wand before coming here”, he’d said, his face and the boy had nodded enthusiastically. 

“Some of the others keep making fun of me because I know so little about the wizarding world”, he’d admitted.

Making a face, Draco had paused in his attempts to correct the boy’s white-fingered grip on his wand. “They shouldn’t be doing that. It’s not your fault you didn’t grow up with magic.”

The boy had shrugged. “Maybe not, but it still means I’m out of the loop a lot.”

Draco obviously had no idea what the ‘loop’ was in this context, but he soldiered on without commenting. “It’ll get better, you’ll see. Come Second Year, you’ll all be in the same boat. Right now, the kids with wizarding parents have an advantage because on most magical properties, there are wards keeping the ministry from detecting underage magic use. But even the most pureblooded parents wouldn’t let their kids cast anything beyond First Year spells, so that’s when you’ll catch up for sure.”

The boy had sighed resignedly. “I guess”, he’d murmured. “Right now, it just feels like there’s no way I’ll ever be as good as the others.”

Draco had looked thoughtful. “You’re the only m-muggleborn First Year Slytherin, right?” The slight stumble over the word was barely detectable. 

The boy had nodded. 

Draco had smirked, the familiar expression tempered by the warm glint in his eyes. “Tell you something, why don’t you read up on a book called _Armies of Light: Chronicling the Resistance Vol. 2_, pay special attention to chapter seven, _ A mudblood’s bravery_, and then let me know how you feel about being muggleborn, yes?”

The boy’s eyes had glowed. At that point, everyone and their mother had written a book about the war, but _Armies of Light_ was by far the most popular and infamous for its individual chapters on what the author called the _Hero Trio_. 

While Ron wasn’t exactly keen on rehashing everything that had happened during the War, he couldn’t help but try to make sure that his friends were done right by the various publications, and so he worked his way through every single one of them, writing letters left and right - even getting publications pulled – until it got to a point where manuscripts had to go through him first before ever making it to the shelves. 

But even he had to admit that in a well-written book, Hermione’s chapter in _AoL_ stood out. He’d been surprised that Draco would recommend it, though, as it had a rather distinct pro-Muggle tone to it that he didn’t think the Ex-Death Eater would endorse. 

Obviously, he’d been wrong about that, and, bolstered by Draco’s encouragement, the next time the First Year cast _Reparo_, it went without a hitch. The two pieces of the quill snapped together as if they’d just waited for the right moment, not even a seam visible at the former break-line. 

The boy whooped and squealed out an excited thanks, clutching his wand and the repaired quill to his chest and looking all aglow with his accomplishment. 

Draco had nodded and smiled and then, because he hadn’t fucked with Ron’s expectations enough at this point, he’d said: “If you ever feel looped out, you come to me. I know a thing or two about pureblood traditions.” 

The boy had nodded fervently and hugged a startled Draco tightly before scampering off, looking a lot happier than he had earlier. 

If Ron hadn’t seen Harry’s pensieve memory of the whole thing, he’d never have believed it. 

Apparently, though, that was the moment Harry had decided to let bygones be bygones and offered Draco Malfoy his hand in friendship. The Slytherin accepted, and they were pretty much inseparable after that. 

It had been hard at first for Ron to accept, this instant kinship between them, especially since it meant sharing his best friend not only with his by-then ex-girlfriend, but also with someone he couldn’t bring himself to entirely trust. By contrast, Hermione had taken the whole thing in stride - even going so far as to wave away Draco’s awkward, stumbling, and no doubt prompted, apology. But then again, she was so caught up in her advanced study program that even her own breakup with Ron barely seemed to register. 

Not that he was bitter or anything.

Looking at Harry and Draco now, it was hard to believe that they’d spent the better part of their childhood at each other’s throats. Harry had sunk into a plush armchair, taking Draco with him. The Slytherin was curled into Harry’s chest, eyes tightly closed, his wet face pressed against Harry’s throat.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he heard Harry murmur and Ron resolutely turned to go. 

It was only later, with a full plate in front of him and his mother busy preparing the batter for midnight blueberry pancakes, that Ron realized that sometime between the first course and now, he’d started thinking of Malfoy as _Draco_.


	2. Chapter 2

The next time he saw Draco, it was Christmas. He was surprised to see the other man at a Weasley family gathering, but then his Mom grabbed Draco and swallowed him up in a hug, saying “Oh, I’m so glad you came, Draco, dear”, and the mystery was solved. 

It was almost funny, the way not even a Malfoy spawn could resist his mother’s charms.

Soon though it became exceedingly clear that being at the Burrow wasn’t Draco’s first choice to spend the holidays, and he continued to look decidedly uncomfortable around Ron’s siblings and their respective significant others. 

It was a little bit like a one-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-others type of scenario for him, Ron supposed. And he had to concede, it was a bit weird having him there, sans Charlie. There had been a precedence, of course, but even though Harry had indeed also broken up with a Weasley, he had been part of the family before getting together with her, so there had never been a reason for him to be doubtful of his welcome. (Neither did Hermione, for that matter, though secretly he was glad that she had decided to spend Christmas with her new boyfriend.)

Draco clearly was. He was fidgety and too apologetic, spending the first hour of his visit just trying to get out of everyone’s way, getting _in_ everyone’s way in the process. Finally, Ron just grabbed him and put a bowl of vegetables in his hands. “Here”, he said, trying not to breathe in too deep. Why did Draco always smell so great, anyway? “Chop these into small bits, but not too small or Mom will complain that they’re done too soon.”

Draco looked down at the bowl, then up at him. 

Ron huffed. “You do know how to use a cutting charm, right?”

Color rose in Draco’s cheeks and he bit the corner of his lip. “I never had to before,” he murmured, a little shame-faced. “Lorra stayed with me, even after everything, and she’d never let me even set foot in the kitchen…” At Ron’s frown, Draco ducked his head. “I freed her as soon as I got the Manor back, okay? I pay her real wages, ministry approved.”

But Ron was still gaping at Draco, waving off the man’s explanations. “Eh, I know all about your freeing of the Malfoy house-elves, Hermione dedicated a whole issue of the S.P.E.W Newsletter to that. I’m just amazed you got to be this age and never had to use a cutting charm. What about potion-making? Is Lorra doing all of the cutting there, too?”

Draco was looking at him as if he was stupid. “Really, Weasley? You did graduate from Hogwarts, correct?”

Ron rolled his eyes but decided to play the game. “Yeeees?”

Eyes intent, Draco waved with the bowl still in his hands. “You can’t use a cutting charm on potion ingredients,” he exclaimed, looking as affronted as if Ron had insulted his designer robes. “Best case, it distorts the magical properties, and in the worst…” He paused, pulled a face, then continued on. “Do you remember that time Professor Snape was out sick for a week, back in third Year? It was right after a Second Year potions class.”

Ron nodded, quelling any urge to comment how he’d been too busy fighting You-Know-Who’s schemes to care about Snape’s health. 

Draco’s eyes narrowed, as if he knew exactly what Ron was thinking. “A student decided that using _Secaro_ on unicorn hair was a good idea and the Professor spent twelve hours countering and containing the toxic fumes. He almost died because he inhaled so much of it.”

Ron frowned. He had never heard of unicorn hair reacting like that before. “If that were true, don’t you think Snape should have, you know, taught us not to use cutting charms in class?”

“He did,” Draco insisted, flushing a lovely pink. “He said it every time we handled anything even remotely close to zero point eight on the magical volatility scale.” 

“Eh,” Ron said, shrugging. He sort of knew what the MVS was and even had vague memories of Snape talking about it, but winding up Draco was too much fun to stop now. “Maybe he said it to you Slytherins, but I can’t recall ever hearing anything like that. Wouldn’t put it past the old git to forget to mention it to us mere Gryffindors-“

There was a sharp gasp behind him and then he received a resounding whack to the back of his head. “Ronald Bilius Weasley, I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” His mother was glowering at him, brandishing a spatula as one would a sword. “Severus Snape may have had his faults, but he was a hero and essential to winning the war – and from what I’m hearing, he was a great teacher, considering.”

“Come on, Mum,” Ron whined, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m not saying he wasn’t on the right side when it came down to it, but even you have to admit that he could be a right tosser. Especially to Harry,” he added, knowing his mother’s weak spots well.

But her expression remained forbidding. “No, Ron. I won’t have you badmouthing Professor Snape, not here in my house, no matter what you think he should have done different. As far as I am concerned, he did the best he could, and that’s the end of it.”

Not even the exasperated gleam in Draco’s eyes was worth this kind of lecture, he abruptly decided, so he just nodded and mumbled an apology under his breath. He tried to ignore the way Draco smirked at him, choosing instead to just show him the cutting charm. Of course, he chose the most complicated one, and was ridiculously annoyed when Draco managed to get it right on the first try. 

Come dinnertime, Draco had cut his way through every vegetable in the house, the pieces neat and tidy, far more even than Ron had ever managed. After proudly handing off the product of his labor (his words), he sighed dramatically, exclaiming: “I’m all worked out,” and plopped down in Harry’s lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

Harry took it in stride, used to being Malfoy’s personal cuddle toy after years of shared loveseats and claims of him being “warmer than a Phoenixes grave”, and so all he did was press a kiss to Draco’s temple and grin at him, murmuring something about toiling and moiling that prompted the blonde to elbow him in the belly. With anyone else, it would have escalated into a mock wrestling match at this point, but Harry never did that with Draco. Instead, he oofed dramatically and rearranged the Slytherin so that he was tucked neatly into his side. 

Ron had asked Harry once, about why he was so much more physically demonstrative with Draco than with anyone else. He’d shrugged and pushed back his glasses, peering at Ron through thick strands of unruly black hair. “Because he needs me to be,” was all he’d said, and it didn’t make much sense at first. 

But then Ron started to watch the Malfoy heir, really watch him, and it turned out to be that for all his bluster and mouthiness, Draco was actually pretty reserved, and body-shy to the point of being averse to touch. Except, he wasn’t really, at least not with people he seemed to trust – and that turned out to be a very short list. 

Charlie had been on it, of course. Harry clearly still was, and for some strange reason, Hermione. He assumed Blaise and Pansy were, even if he hadn’t seen the three of them together since their graduation party. And, in addition - and Ron was weirdly touched by that - there was the fact that he himself seemed to be included on the exclusive list as well. 

Not that him being allowed in Draco’s personal space even came close to the liberties Harry was taking, up to and including manhandling Draco into better cuddling positions, just like he was doing right now.

They looked good together, Ron realized with a start. Harry wasn’t that much taller than the other man, but his wider frame emphasized Draco’s lean one, especially when he wrapped his arms around him, murmuring something in his ear that made Draco laugh. Of course, they didn’t complement each other like Draco and Charlie had, but then there was something to say for the combination of fiery red and pale blond – as evidenced by Bill and Fleur’s wedding pictures. 

Looking down at his own arms, at the freckles and fine red hair covering them, Ron couldn’t help but wonder what _he_ and Draco might look like together. More than a little surprised at the turn his thoughts were taking, he tried to shake it away. Even without all the history standing between them, Ron was very sure that Draco would stay the hell away from any Weasleys after what he’d gone through with Charlie, so there really wasn’t any reason to dwell on his growing attraction to the lean blonde. 

It was shaping up to be a nice little gathering after that slight hiccup. Draco had relaxed considerably, proudly pointing out the soup he’d cut the vegetables for, making Ron’s Mum both laugh and shake her head in exasperation. 

After dinner, Ron managed to needle Draco into playing chess with him – no mean feat considering the Slytherin hated to lose – while Harry, Ginny, George and, surprisingly, his Dad had rushed outside for a quick game of Quidditch, promising to be back in time for pudding.

Pulling out the board, Ron grinned at the still standing Draco. “White or black? Loser’s choice.”

Glaring, Draco opened his mouth to tell him off – only to snap it closed the moment a loud _whoosh_ came from the fireplace and two dusty people suddenly stood in the room with them. 

It would have been funny, under different circumstances, the way Draco moved back, bumping into Ron in the process, only able to stay on his feet because he grabbed a hold of Ron’s wrist, fingers biting into Ron’s skin. But it wasn’t funny, not at all, because none of them had known that Charlie had decided to come home for the holidays as well. 

“Seasons Greetings, everyone”, his voice suddenly boomed through the house, the distinct smell of dragon skin surrounding him like a cloak. A pretty woman stood at his side, almost as tall as he was and with the sort-of uppity no-nonsense flair, Charlie seemed to favor in a partner. “This is Magda”, he exclaimed, grinning proudly.

Ron wasn’t even surprised. It had barely been two months since his brother had called it quits with Draco, but then he’d always moved on quick. 

Apparently, Draco hadn’t been aware of that fact. He stood frozen and all that lovely color a bit of manual labor and a nice homemade meal had given him leeched out of his face. He looked like he was going to be sick. 

“Oh,” Charlie said, when he noticed Draco. He had the grace to look uncomfortable, the proprietary hand falling away from Magda’s waist. “Draco. Hey. It’s, uh. It’s good to see you.”

Draco swallowed convulsively. He was visibly fighting for composure – and he was also very visibly failing. 

Magda’s eyes were sharp. “Charlie?” she asked, voice deceptively calm. She sounded faintly American. “Is there something you forgot to mention?”

Charlie shifted on his feet. “I didn’t think he’d be here-,“ he stopped himself as Magda’s glare intensified. “Err, I mean, Magda, meet Draco, my uh, ex-boyfriend.”

Magda shook her head. She looked disappointed. “A recent break-up, I gather.” 

Charlie nodded, looking all sorts of guilty. 

She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said to Draco. “As you can tell, I had no idea. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known.”

Any other time, Ron would have congratulated Charlie on being with a class-act like Magda, but he was too distracted by Draco’s grip on his arm loosening and then falling away. Half-turning, it only took a second or two for him to take in all the emotions on Draco’s face. Disbelief was foremost, surprise of course, but there was also a pained twist to his mouth that Ron didn’t like. He looked defeated, gutted by Charlie’s indifference, and humiliation colored the tips of his ears.

As he watched, Ron saw Draco’s eyes fall away to stare at the ground as if wishing for it to open and swallow him. It lasted only a heartbeat or two, though, and then Draco’s inherent pride reasserted itself. “Yes, well,” he said snootily, an echo of that much-hated childhood sneer creeping into his voice. “I’m sure he didn’t have to try hard to erase every trace of me from his life.” It rankled, and it showed.

Magda’s eyes widened and she mustered her boyfriend with an appraising gaze. Apparently, it hadn’t been lost on her that the break-up hadn’t been an amicable one. 

Charlie, put on the spot by both his old and his new lover, reacted just like Ron had come to expect from his hot-headed brother: he lashed out. “Should make you think, huh, the fact that it was so damn easy to do.” 

Draco’s head snapped up. The sudden fire in his eyes would have been impressive if it hadn’t been tempered by wetness gathering there. 

Enough, Ron thought. He shifted on his feet, bit his lip, took a deep breath, and then he stepped up close and right into Draco’s space. Ignoring the other man’s startled gasp, he put his arms around his waist and pulled him close. “Charlie may have removed you from his life rather easily,” he murmured, leaning in so that he could drop a kiss onto Draco’s smooth forehead. “But then again, you didn’t have to work hard at it either.”

Draco’s eyes were wide. He’d grabbed a hold of Ron to keep his balance, but he seemed to have been rendered speechless. 

“I’m sorry,” Ron said, playing into Draco’s obvious shock. “I know we agreed to keep it a secret for the time being, but I’m not going to when _he_ is allowed to flaunt his new squeeze in front of the whole family.”

Draco swallowed hard, his searching look finding only calm acceptance in Ron. It might have been a spur of the moment decision, but he didn’t regret making it. Especially not when Draco relaxed against him, lips quirking into a small, abashed smile. “Really now, babe, don’t be rude,” he murmured, and made a fond, yet exasperated sound that was eerily familiar - and that never before had been directed at Ron. “After all, Magda here could one day be your sister-in-law.” It was art, the way it was said. Earnest and well-meaning towards the woman who had been kind to him, but with enough of a pitying edge to it that Charlie flushed dully in reaction.

And then Draco tipped his head back, reached up and suddenly, they were kissing. Soft and sweet at first, lips barely touching, it grew deeper fast, their bodies slotting together like two parts of a whole. Draco was warm and pliant in his arms and he tasted so sweet that Ron slid ever deeper into the kiss, unwilling – almost unable – to pull away. 

It was only when Charlie cleared his throat that the spell was lifted, and they broke apart. Breathing hard, they stared at each other, stunned by what they had discovered between them. “Hey,” Ron murmured, running a finger down the side of Draco’s face, unable to stop himself from letting a fingertip dance over those pink, kiss-swollen lips. 

Draco’s smile curved around it. “Hey.”

“Charlie!” His Mum’s voice startled them all. A moment later, she was hugging her second-oldest son to her ample bosom, looking very pleased. “I didn’t know you were coming, why didn’t you say something? We would have waited with dinner…” she trailed off as she took note of the uncomfortable woman beside him. “You brought a guest.” 

“Yeah,” Charlie murmured, grabbing her hand as if to prove his point. “Mum, his is Madga. My girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend-,“ Molly’s eyes flew to Draco and it was only then that she seemed to realize Ron’s stance and the possessive hold he had on his former rival. “Oh.”

Ron’s heart stumbled in his chest. It was one thing to pretend to be dating Draco in front of his brother, who right now played the role of the douchebag Ex to perfection, but quite another to do so in front of his Mum. There was no turning back now, though, not without completely humiliating Draco – and himself, for that matter. He gave her a sheepish grin. “Err, Mum, so, there’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you…” 

“I can see that.” Her gaze was piercing, and for a long, breathless moment, Ron was sure that they were about to be called out on their ruse. “We will have a talk about that later, Ronald,” she said instead, using his full first name for the second time that night. “For right now, I need everyone to stop glowering at each other – yes, Charlie that means you.“ She fixed both Ron and Charlie with a hard stare. “I won’t have Draco or Magda feel uncomfortable in my house just because I seem to have raised vultures that can’t resist a pretty thing when they see it.” 

Grinning, Draco turned to him and murmured: “Hear that? I’m pretty,” just loud enough for all of them to hear. 

He sounded pleased, and Ron kind of melted a little bit. “Of course you are,” he mumbled, awkward with the compliment. Draco’s surprised smile was like the sun coming out after heavy rain – and Ron sort of gagged a little, disgusted with himself.

“Alright.” Molly clapped her hands once. “Now that everyone is on the same page here, I need at least one of you to help me get the trifle from the kitchen.”

Across the room, Magda smacked Charlie out of his sulk and walked over to link arms with Molly. “It is very nice to meet you, Mrs. Weasley, and it’d be my pleasure to help with dessert.”

Ron was unable to look away from Draco’s shining face, the realization of what he’d just done pounding through him. In a way, it was what he had wanted ever since that horrible night, back when he’d realized what a fool he’d been to hold onto his preconceived notions about Draco. But in all his daydreams and the what-if scenarios he had conjured up in his mind, pretending to be lovers to spare the Slytherin from ‘losing’ the break-up with Charlie? Somehow, that had never been on the list. 

As the two women left, Draco finally pulled away. “I’m going to wash up,” he murmured, directing a speaking look in Ron’s direction. “And, maybe you could show me your old room later? I’ve been meaning to kiss you in it.” 

He knew, _knew_ that that last bit was added for Charlie’s benefit and that the whole thing was just an excuse for them to be alone to talk about their impromptu pretend-relationship, and still Ron couldn’t help a shiver of excitement from running down his spine. “Uh, yes, sure, great.”

Draco’s eyebrows climbed up and he looked speculative. He said nothing, though, and instead just walked away. Ron gulped, trying not to notice too much how the black pants he was wearing hugged and emphasized his bum with every step. 

“So, you and Draco, eh?” 

Ron tore his gaze away from the Slytherin and turned to his brother. He wasn’t looking forward to lying directly in Charlie’s face, but then he heard Draco laugh at something his Mum had said and abruptly lost all of his scruples. “Yeah. It sort of just happened.” Hah, he thought, wasn’t that the truth.

Charlie nodded. He looked thoughtful. “I did love him, you know.” He heaved a sigh. “It just wasn’t enough, what we had. But I refused to see that and instead of just _talking_ to him, I…” he spread his fingers in a helpless gesture. 

“You froze him out,” Ron finished saying what his brother couldn’t. “You made him do what you didn’t have the guts to.”

Charlie frowned, then nodded. “I’ve always been crap at relationships.” 

Ron sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not going to tell you how much you hurt him,” he said slowly, “because I’m pretty sure Harry already did a pretty good job of that.”

Grimacing, Charlie acknowledged the truth of that with a low grunt.

“Just,” Ron said and leaned closer. It was weird to have to look down to be able to catch Charlie’s gaze. He wasn’t used to being taller than his big brother yet. “Keep your mouth shut in the future, yes? He doesn’t need any more grief from you.” 

Charlie gave a sharp nod. “I’d say don’t hurt him,” he said, a little sheepish, “but that’d be a might hypocritical of me.” 

Shaking his head, Ron pulled his brother into a quick, back-pounding hug. “Idiot”, he murmured, grinning when it was answered with a heartfelt, “Fuckwit”. 

Knowing they would be okay, Ron took a fortifying breath. One down, one to go.

***

He met Draco outside of his room. “It’s not much,” he said, dreading Draco’s sharp tongue. He remembered all too well the arrogant, condescending boy he had been, and old habits were hard to shake, apparently. 

Draco’s lips quirked into a half-grin. “I have lived in a dragon trainer’s hut in Romania for over a year, Weasley. The Burrow is a castle in comparison.” 

“Really?” Ron huffed. “Weasley? In a house full of them and after I had my tongue halfway down your throat?”

Draco shrugged. “It’s strange to call you Ron out loud, even considering what you’ve just done for me. It was…” he pulled a face, struggling with the words. “It was a very nice thing for you to do. Weird, maybe, and a little over the top, but nice. Thank you.” Grey eyes met blue ones. “Ron.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, cursing the flush he could feel rising in his cheeks. He could leave it at that, he knew, direct the conversation to how they’d plan to handle their continued ‘dating’ in front of Ron’s family, maybe even plan how they’d let it fizzle out in a few weeks, and he’d be off the hook in no time. 

Thing was, though, he kind of didn’t want to be let off the hook.

“I didn’t do it just for you.” He said it in a rush, trying to get the words out as fast as possible. 

Draco stilled, eyes going wide. “Oh?”

Heart pounding in his chest, Ron nodded. He didn’t elaborate, sure that everything he was feeling was written right there on his face. 

“Oh.” Draco breathed out softly. He looked stunned, blindsided by Ron’s truth. “How long?”

Ron shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” Draco didn’t sound offended or disgusted by the idea, but unfortunately, he wasn’t enthusiastically throwing himself at Ron either. “Honestly? I don’t really know what to say to that. Charlie’s your brother and I was ready to marry him not too long ago. And while I’d have to be blind not to appreciate the fine body you’ve grown into, we’ve _just_ gotten over open animosity – and how can I be sure that what you’re feeling for me isn’t just misplaced sympathy, or worse yet, guilt-?“

Putting a gentle hand on his nape, Ron pulled him close and stopped the flow of words with a soft, close-mouthed kiss. “Hush,” he murmured, their breaths mingling. “We don’t have to decide anything right now. Let’s just figure things out as we go along, huh?”

“A decidedly Gryffindorish approach.” Draco’s eyes were hooded. “Not very fair to you, though.”

Ron swallowed hard, strangely touched by the concern. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. I’ll be just fine.” He grinned. “After all, I’ll get to hug and kiss you all I want, and I don’t even have to buy you dinner first.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and Ron yelped as a sharp smack landed on his butt. “I’ll have you know that I’ve gotten used to a certain standard, Ron Weasley, and I am holding you to it.” He paused, eyes intent. “Tomorrow, dinner, your place.”

Ron’s breath caught in his throat. 

A mild smile played around Draco’s lips, so at odds with the sardonic expression they so often held. “I’m expecting a homecooked meal, and none of that instant conjure!meal crap either.” His nose wrinkled.

Laughing, hope blooming in his chest, Ron nodded. “As you wish.”

“Good.” Draco shifted a little, grey eyes solemn. “I’m not promising anything yet. I kind of loved Charlie a lot, and…” he trailed off, shrugging helplessly. 

Charmed by this vulnerable and incredibly honest version of Draco, Ron lifted a shoulder. “I get it,” he replied, “believe me, I do. After Hermione, I fell into a hole that I didn’t think I’d ever get out of. I was sure that what I felt for her, I’d never feel again, not for anybody.”

“And now you do?” There was wonder in Draco’s tone.

Smiling, Ron winked at him. “Not quite yet. But I think I could, given time.” 

Draco’s lips formed an O and he looked deliciously floored. Unable to resist, Ron kissed him again, deepening it until Draco’s eyes had slipped shut and the heat between them became almost unbearable. 

“Come on,” he murmured after prying himself away with some difficulty, loving how Draco followed after him blindly before catching himself. “Let’s go join the others. I’m sure word has already reached them.”

At that, Draco blanched. “Merlin’s balls,” he exclaimed. “Harry will kill me for not telling him first.”

“Eh,” Ron said, grinning. “I’ll protect you from the big bad Boy-Who-Lived.”

“Prat.” But Draco let his hand be caught in Ron’s, and together they walked out, their fingers intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your lovely comments and kudos - they all helped keep the muse alive on this! <3 There may yet be more, we'll see. :)


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